The Secret Life of Cherry Red Piker
by Breezy233
1. Chapta 1

Author's Note: Ok, ok, ok, this is my VERY FIRST Newsie fanfic online EVER!!! So PLEASE go easy on me with reviews! It's a kinda serious chapter, but I'm gonna try to throw in some weird stuff later on, which should be easier when I introduce all the other newsies.  
  
Disclaimer: Unfortunately all the newsies and "related items" belong to Disney. I own Catherine/Red though!!! I don't own the potted plant thing either. That belongs to Saturday. Read "Tales of Love and Life as told by an Irish Banana" by Saturday if you didn't get it.  
  
Alright, Catherine, it's real simple; all you gotta do is find a newsie. Shouldn't be too hard; they're everywhere, right? But, of course, the one time I needed one of those fucking boys, they seemed to elude me, whereas they seemed to track me whenever I actually wanted to get somewhere. They'd use every trick in the book, trying to get me to buy one damn paper. And now, in my starting-to-get-desperate time of need, every newsboy in New York seemed to have abandoned my side.  
Typical.  
And then I heard him, "Extra! Extra! Child trapped in fiery building! Hundreds fight the blaze! 38 dead and counting!" He was kinda short, but you would never have thought it from the way he was waving his arms and attracting all sorts of attention. There was a small crowd of men and women gathered around him, thrusting out coins and grabbing their papers before walking away with their faces hidden behind the front page.  
Eventually, the small crowd dissolved. I stood up from where I was sitting on a bench. I began to take the small, more polite steps I was used to, but then I remembered who I was. Or at least, who I was supposed to be. My hair was cut exceptionally short, and I was dressed like a teenage boy. And nobody doubted that I was one. I paused before starting to take larger, more confident strides. I reached the boy within seconds.  
I'm not sure whether or not he saw me, but before he could take another breath to start hollering again, I grabbed the kid, dragged him behind the nearby brick bank, and firmly pinned his shoulders against the wall. I heard a thud as the papers he'd been holding fell to the ground. He face was a mix of confusion and shock. I leaned in close.  
I opened my mouth to speak, but he pulled away first, backing away uncertainly, his hands in the air. He spoke, "Look, kid . . . I-I'm flattered an' all, really, I am . . . but, well, sorry, but, I'm as straight as Robin Hood's arrows."  
My God, I thought. He thinks I'm some gay kid trying to make out with him! I felt my face burn a bright crimson. "Jeez, man, I'm straight, too."  
"You are? Then why the hell were you in my face like that?"  
"Well, I was gonna ask you a question, but then you went into your Proud To Be Straight speech."  
"Sorry, but my friend just told me the morning about how this gay kid just randomly grabbed his head once, so I guess I'm a little paranoid."  
"Yeah, no kidding." He knelt down to gather up his papers. "So, you wanted to ask me something?" I'd almost forgot. "Oh, yeah. I wanna be a newsie. I was wondering where to go." "Jesus, is that all? Well, tonight I'll introduce you to Kloppah and we'll get you a bunk, but for now you can help me sell these." He handed me a small pile of newspapers. "We'll see how you do with those." I sat down and started paging through a copy. He sat down next to me and lit a cigar. "I'se Race, by the way. What's your name?" "Joe Piker, but I hate it. I've been trying to come up with a good nickname for myself, but it's not much good." "Aaah." Race puffed his cigar thoughtfully for a minute before he spoke again. He laughed softly to himself. "You shoulda seen your face when I thought you were gay. You were so red!" He paused in thought. "Cherry red." I looked up from page six with a grin, "My brother used to say that about me. He called me Cherry Red." "There we go." Race stood up and brushed the dust off his pants. "You are now Cherry Red Pika. Red for short. Come on, now," he began to lead the way back to the street. "Gotta sell those papes!" I watched him in front of me with a small smile on my face. I think I'm gonna like this. I followed him out into the square. I kept on saying, "Red Piker," softly to myself, loving how it rolled off my tongue. With a satisfied grin, I glanced over at Race, who was already back to his work. I took a few paces away from him and took a deep breath. "Potted plants growing out of control! Gardeners baffled!" A girl passing by paled slightly, looking at me in horror, before urgently hurrying away. 


	2. Chapta 2

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I somehow managed to get two copies of the first chapter onto the web by accident, titled as different stories, but this one is the one I'll be adding on to. Dis chapta's foah Izzy, cuz a)she rocks me sock, too! an' b) She's da one who got "Smells Like Teen Spirit" stuck in me head!  
  
DISCLAIMER: I own Red. I don't own any lyrics, or any newsies, or Kloppah, or the lodging house, or New York, or . . . well, you get my drift.  
  
I don't know how late it was when Race and I finished with all his papes. The sun was almost gone, but we could still see fine. Businesses were beginning to turn out their lights one boy one as owners locked up for the night. A man came out to light the streetlamps.  
  
When I was small, I thought the lights magically lit themselves, knowing what the right time was to come on, whether it was summer or winter. I had never once seen anyone light or douse them, and now, watching for the first time as an old man reached up to bring each one to life, it unnerved me. I turned to Race.  
  
"So, how'd I do on my first day?"  
  
Race smiled and shoved his hand in his pocket. I heard the jingle of a sizable amount of coins clinking together. He brought out a handful of the coins and held the out to me. "Not bad at all for a stahta. A new face around here'll be good foah business. Two hands." I cupped mine together as he handed them over, careful not to drop anything.  
  
"You got a place?" I shook my head, my eyes downcast. " Great. You get ta stay at da newsie lodgin' house. Ya gotta pay rent, but it ain't much an' Kloppah'll give ya some time ta get on yer feet befoah he asks foah much."  
  
"Who's Kloppah?"  
  
"Da guy who owns da place." Race's face lit up as he remembered something and smiled mischievously. "Yer gonna have one helluva time tanight, boy!"  
  
I tried to look curiously innocent. "Why?"  
  
"KARAOKE NIGHT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" Snitch jumped off his bunk and landed next to me. At least, I think it was Snitch. Race had introduced me to everyone and they'd been real nice about everything so far, but I was having a bit of trouble keeping track of all the names. My usually-excellent memory was not kicking in.  
  
My eyes widened. "KARAOKE?!" I had been warned about the madness of the male gender many, many times, but never in my entire life did I expect this . . .  
  
"Yep!"  
  
I think it was Kid Blink who told everybody to "shuddup and siddown" at that point. A makeshift curtain had been created by tying a rope between two bedposts and draping a bunch of wrinkled sheets over it. He grinned eagerly and cleared his throat, "Allow me ta intraduce da foist act. Bumlets is gonna sing some song an' is annoyin'ly refusin' ta tell me what it is EVEN THOUGH DA WHOLE POINT O' DA ANNOUNCA IS TA ANNOUNCE DA NEXT SONG!!!!"  
  
There was a muffled, "Aw, be quiet" from behind the curtain. Kid Blink rolled eyes and yanked back the sheets to reveal Bumlets sitting on a top bunk, his legs dangling off the edge. In his hands he held a . . . well, it was a . . .  
  
"Bumlets, what the hell is that crap yer holdin'?" Jack finally decided to call out.  
  
Bumlets was very hurt. "It's a Kleenex box with a Quilted Quicker Picker Upper From Bounty tube on the top and a couple o' rubber bands around it."  
  
Jack paused and blinked for a moment. "Okay, lemme rephrase that. What's it SUPPOSED to be?"  
  
"A banjo!"  
  
Race leaned over and asked in a low voice so as not to further offend Bumlets, "What the hell is a banjo?"  
  
I wasn't really sure. "Well, from the way he's strummin' it, I'd say it's something like a guitar." Bumlets was indeed strumming his heart out on the poor rubber bands strands. If he was trying to make a tune, he was very off key, but it was hard to tell whether or not he was aiming for a specific melody.  
  
Eventually, however, he broke into song, "Why are there so many Songs about rainbows? And what's on the other side? Rainbows are visions But only illusions And rainbows have nothing to hide. So we've been told, and some choose to believe it. I know they're wrong, wait and see. Someday we'll find it The Rainbow Connection The lovers, the dreamers, and me!!!! Laaaa, da, da, deeee, da da daaa-"  
  
Bumlets quickly was cut off when one of the rubber bands snapped on his hand. He looked at his now-broken beloved instrument as if he was about to cry and remorsefully hopped off the bed. He whispered, "I-it broke." Nobody moved.  
  
"Hey, uh, Bumlets, you okay?" Boots hollered out from the back. Bumlets turned his gaze toward Boots.  
  
"Am I okay? AM I OKAY?! MY BANJO JUST BROKE!!! I CAN NEVER SING MY HAPPY BANJO SONG AGAIN!!!!! EVER!! LIFE AS IT WAS IS OVER!!! MY LIFE IS NOW COMPLETELY . . . COMPLETELY . . ." Bumlets gasped, "BANJO-LESS!!!!! WHAT'LL I DO, OH, WHAT'LL I DO???" Dutchy tentatively stood up to put a comforting arm over his shoulder, but he ran away offstage, blubbering, "Gotta find some Elmer's glue."  
  
Kid Blink walked onstage, pulling the curtain shut as he came. "Aaaand that concludes ouah dramatic poahtion of da show! Next up we got Mush, Skittery, Snoddy, an' Snipeshooter!"  
  
Everyone cheered and somebody whistled piercingly, but, from the way no one even flinched, I assumed that it happened quite often. The lights dimmed. All the boys leaned forward eagerly, and I could feel the excitement in the air. All of a sudden, the lights blazed on and the curtain was yanked open. There stood Mush in front, with the other three in a row behind him.  
  
Skittery, Snoddy, and Snipeshooter sang, "Be a man!"  
  
Mush threw out his arms, "We must be swift as the coursing river!"  
  
"Be a man."  
  
"With all the force of a great typhooooon!"  
  
"Be a man."  
  
"With all the strength of a raging fire Mysterious as the dark side of the mooooooooooooooooooooooooooon!"  
  
All four boys jumped into the air for the final note, "HA!"  
  
The lights went out. Someone screamed.  
  
"Who the hell was that?" I asked.  
  
Jack answered for me, "Dammit, Itey, you scream like such a goil!"  
  
I flinched.  
  
"I'SE AFRAID OF THE DARK!!! TURN ON THE LIGHT NOOOOOW!!!!!"  
  
"Ah, I can't find the switch!!"  
  
"Ain't hard ta find, Dutchy, it's next to tha dooah!"  
  
"CAN'T FIND THA DOOAH!!"  
  
Itey shrieked again, "AUGH, SOMEBODY LOCKED US IN HERE AND VANISHED THE DOOR!!! I NEED MR. TEDDY; SOMEBODY FIND ME MR. TEDDY!!!!" "Itey, you can't vanish a door. Something can vanish, but you can't vanish something."  
  
"Aw, shuddup, an' go home, Dave!"  
  
"HOW CAN I GO HOME IF SOMEBODY VANISHED THE DOOR????"  
  
"WITH THE LIGHT OUT, IT'S LESS DANGEROUS!"  
  
"SOMEBODY STOLE MR. TEDDY!!!! AUGH!!! IT'S THE END OF THE WORLD!!!!"  
  
"Shut yer mouth, will ya, Itey? I'll find yer dumb, ol' bear."  
  
There was a rustle as Race got up and started poking around. Itey continued to whimper.  
  
"OW! Man, Race, that was me TOE!"  
  
"Sorry!"  
  
"HERE WE ARE NOW; ENTERTAIN US!"  
  
"Dutchy, just toin on da light!"  
  
"I tolja, I lost da switch!"  
  
"I FEEL STUPID!"  
  
Someone answered back, "AND CONTAGIOUS!"  
  
"You didn't lose the switch, Dutchy, it lost itself on you! That's what the French say!"  
  
"DAVEY, SHUDDUP, WE AIN'T FRENCH!!"  
  
"Actually, me mudda was half French."  
  
"Well, I ain't French!"  
  
"HERE WE ARE NOW; ENTERTAIN US!"  
  
"WHERE THE HELL IS THE DAMN SWITCH???"  
  
"YA CAN'T FIND DA SWITCH, CUZ DERE AIN'T NO SWITCH, DUTCHY, IT'S A PULL STRING!!"  
  
"Since when?"  
  
"A MULATTO!"  
  
"Since foreva!"  
  
I assumed that Dutchy began to wave his hands around in search of the pull string at that point, because moments later, I heard, "AUGH, WHAT THE HELL? DAT'S ME ONLY GOOD EYE, DUTCHY, YA CAN'T WRECK IT FOR ME!!!"  
  
"Oops. Sorry, Blink. You okay?"  
  
"AN ALBINO!"  
  
"IT HOITS!"  
  
"A MOSQUITO!"  
  
"SOMEBODY TOIN ON DA LIGHT!!! I'SE AFRAID OF THE DARK!!!!"  
  
"MY LIBIDO! YEAH!!!!"  
  
I took a deep breath and bellowed, "KLOPPAAAAAAAH!!!"  
  
It took a moment for everyone to catch on, but soon everyone was screaming "Kloppah, save us!" at the top of their lungs. I tell ya, he must be one sound sleeper, 'cause it was about ten minutes before he came up.  
  
He opened the door and all the newsies enveloped him in a hug before he could take a step. Everyone began to describe what had happened in their own version, but then, yet again, Itey's piercing shriek cut the chaos easily, "GET OFF! MOVE!!! YOU'RE ALL TRAMPLING MR. TEDDY!!!!"  
  
He dove head-first into the crowd, towards the floor, and people began hopping on one foot awkwardly in an attempt not the step on Itey's fingers. Eventually, Itey pulled away from the crowd, hugging a very ragged, limp what-used-to-be-a-bear.  
  
Miraculously, Kloppah somehow managed to calm everybody down after that, and told us to all go to sleep. I got a few claps on the back for thinking to call Kloppah, as I walked into the bathroom stall to get into my pajamas. As I walked out, Race was at the sink, and called to me,  
  
"Hey, Red, wouldja get me toothbrush?"  
  
"Sure, where is it?"  
  
"Unda me bed."  
  
"UNDER the bed? Isn't that a kinda . . . dirty place to keep a toothbrush."  
  
"He likes it under there."  
  
"Oh, okay." I jumped over Itey, who was curled up on the floor with his bear, and dodged the glue splatters that surrounded Bumlets as he attempted to fix his instrument. When I finally got to Race's bunk, I knelt down, looked under, and screamed.  
  
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Aaaah, CLIFFHANGER! I got a little carried away with this chapter, but it was a lot of fun to write . . . I couldn't resist sticking in the Nirvana lyrics. Oh, man, I love that song. And Mulan. And the Muppets. They all rock. 


	3. Chapta 3

Author's Note: I have absolutely nothing to say, but I feel the need to place an author's note here!!! So I shall proclaim the newsie fanfic world that I AM MADLY IN LOVE WITH SPOT CONLON!!! Ah. There, now that I have that somewhat out of my system, I shall begin to write the next chapter . . .  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own anything in this cruel, cruel world that has to do with the newsies, including the actual newsies, who I adore FAR beyond comprehension.  
  
Ok, so I didn't really scream. Boys don't scream. Or at least had thought so until I met Itey . . . BUT, on average, boys don't tend to scream, and that's what I had been taught, so I yelled. It was more of a surprised yell. I hopped back to Race, who was still waiting by the sink.  
  
"Didja find it?"  
  
"RAAAACE!!!!"  
  
"What?"  
  
"THERE'S A GUY UNDER YOUR BED!!!! JUST STARING BACK AT YOU!! Go, see for yourself!"  
  
To my shock, Race didn't seem bothered or surprised by this at all. "Oh, yeah. I forgot he was unda theah."  
  
"You . . . what?"  
  
"C'mon."  
  
By the time we got back to Race's bunk, the boy had already crawled out and was dusting off his pants. He stood about my height, maybe a little taller, and, like all the other newsies, he wore a cap (though his was covered in dust) and suspenders. "Red, I'd like ta introduce ya to Spot Conlon. He's the Brooklyn leada. Bad person to fight with."  
  
"Gee, thanks, Race, make the kid terrified of me. So who's dis?"  
  
"Dis is Red Pika. He's new. Just came today."  
  
Spot nodded, spit into his hand, and held it out for me to shake. I spit into my own palm and shook his without hesitation. That was another thing I had learned: Never, EVER decline a spitshake. Even if it does seem awfully nasty at the time.  
  
I wasn't sure how I felt about this Spot. His presence certainly demanded respect, and got it, too, and Race seemed pretty good friends with him, so he had to be a pretty decent guy. He had a lot of self-confidence, too, judging by his handshake. The only word I can give it is sincere. Do not ask me how a handshake is sincere but that's what comes to mind, so you can lie awake at night and try to figure it out; don't bother me.  
  
Might I add that he was pretty damn cute.  
  
I just had one question:  
  
"Hey, uh, Spot?"  
  
"Yeah, Red?"  
  
"Um . . . what were ya doin' under Race's bed?"  
  
Spot's face immediately went completely solemn and I think he might've blushed. He didn't exactly glare at me, but I knew I had hit a nerve.  
  
"Gee, man, sorry, did I say somethin' wrong?"  
  
Race, who had been lying on the floor retreiving his toothbrush, now straightened up. "Whadja say?"  
  
"I asked Spot why he was under the bed in the first place."  
  
Race cracked up. And I mean REALLY cracked up. In a matter of seconds he was sprawled across the bed, laughing hysterically. Eventually, face red and gasping for breath, he sat up, giggling.  
  
I didn't get what was so funny. "Ok, so are you gonna tell me what happened or what?"  
  
Race looked about to burst out laughing again, but a look from Spot silenced that possibility. Instead, with a smile on his face, he said, "Well, see, maybe last week oah so, we was awl hangin' out heah, playin' cahds an' awl dat stuff. Had a great time, an' Spot was dere, too. An' den, well, I guess ol' Kloppah was in a good mood dat night, cuz foist of all he didn't yell at us ta go ta bed like he usually does. But he also came up da stairs wit' da biggest tray I eva seen of . . ."  
  
He paused and looked at Spot. "Can I tell 'im?"  
  
Spot was looking mighty uncomfortable at this point, but he realized that Race was too far into the story to pull out, "Yeah, I guess ya might as well . . . Butcha can't laugh! Promise me dat, Red?"  
  
"Sure. So what was on the tray, Race?"  
  
"Well . . . it was about twenty bowls (one foah each of us) and each bowl was filled to tha brim wit'--"  
  
Skittery flung open the door with The World's Goofiest Smile on his face. " I'SE. GOT. GREEN. JELL- O!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"  
  
Spot's eyes became wide with horror and his jaw dropped ever so slightly. He instinctively grabbed his hat and dove underneath Race's bed again.  
  
Race looked at me and sighed. "Heah we go again. Dis is exactly what happened last week. Dere ya have it. Spot Conlon, 'fearless' leada of Brooklyn is damn terrified o' Jell-O."  
  
Spot's voice came from beneath the bed, "DON'T SAY IT!!!! DON'T SAY IT!!!!"  
  
"What, Jell-O?" I asked.  
  
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!!!!!"  
  
Race sighed again. "Ah, well. We'll just have ta wait until he calms down again. In da mean time, I'm gonna go brush me teeth wit—AAAAAAAH!!!!"  
  
"What?"  
  
"I got da wrong toothbrush! Dis ain't mine!! Dis is Snipe's!! SNIPESHOOTA!"  
  
"What?"  
  
"I got Spike over here!"  
  
"YOU FOUND HIM?!?!?!" Snipeshooter was by our side in a split second and was hugging the toothbrush, something I didn't think was really possible. I mean, it's kinda small to really HUG, but he pulled it off . . . He then ran off to brush his teeth.  
  
Race watched him with a sense of longing before bursting out, "I WANT BRUSH- BRUSH!!!!!"  
  
I blinked. "Brush-Brush?"  
  
"Me toothbrush! Ain'tcha eva seen Timmy da Tooth????"  
  
"No."  
  
"Spot move ova an' lemme get unda dere, I'se gotta get Brush-Brush!!"  
  
"NOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!! I bet you have . . . IT . . . an' you're gonna bring IT unda heah an' start . . . SLOIPIN' IT!!!!!! NOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!"  
  
I got an idea. "Hey, Spot, can I get unda there? I don't like . . . IT."  
  
"Ya don't?"  
  
"Nope."  
  
"Ok. You can come."  
  
So I crawled under. You'd be surprised how much room there is under Race's bunk. It doesn't look very big at all, but once you get under it . . . it's pretty . . . roomy, I guess. It took me a matter of seconds to find Brush- Brush. "Ok, well, bye, Spot."  
  
"NO! Ya can't just LEAVE me heah!!!!"  
  
"Well, I kinda hafta give Race his toothbrush."  
  
"Hand it to 'im! I'm gonna get LOOOOOOOOOONELYYYYYYYYYY!!!!!!!!!!!"  
  
I sighed. "Fine." I reached out and gave Brush-Brush to Race who immediately began to rejoice and ran happily into the washroom where he began to joyfully brush his teeth next to Snipeshooter. I rolled onto my back.  
  
We heard Skittery climb up and sit on the top bunk above us. His spoon clinked against the bowl and then we heard it: a big, loud, noisy SLURP. Spot immediately grabbed my arm and squeezed it. Hard.  
  
He whispered, "I . . . don't like it when dey . . . slurp."  
  
I whispered back, "I know."  
  
"It's creepy."  
  
"It doesn't bug me."  
  
"Well, I don't like it."  
  
"I know."  
  
"Red?"  
  
"Yeah, Spot?"  
  
"What're you scared of?"  
  
"Promise not to tell anyone?"  
  
"Ya got me woid as a gennelman."  
  
"You're a gennelman?"  
  
"Temp'rarly."  
  
"Oh. Well, I don't like balloons."  
  
"Balloons?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"How come?"  
  
"I dunno. They just look so happy and cheerful and it makes you wonder what they're REALLY all about and then there's that whole POPPING issue..." I shivered. "Hey, Spot?"  
  
"Yeah, Red?"  
  
"I can't feel my fingers anymore."  
  
"Oh. Sorry." He let go of my arm. Shoot.  
  
Specs' face peered under at us. "Hey, you two, Skittery's done eating. You can come out now."  
  
"Oh. Okay."  
  
We crawled out and straightened up. I smiled when I saw Spot.  
  
"What's so funny?"  
  
"Your nose. It's got dirt smudged on it. Go see for yourself."  
  
He checked the mirror and had to smile himself before washing it off. Kloppah's broomstick was heard banging his ceiling (our floor) from under us. "Hey, you boys get ta sleep, ya hear? Gotta be ready for tomorrow! Carryin' da bannah!!"  
  
"Alright, alright!" moaned Jack. "We can hear ya!"  
  
I got the bunk above Snoddy. I sat up and looked around. It had been a good night. This really had been quite a good idea on my part. Not bad at all.  
  
"Night, Snoddy!"  
  
"Night, Red!"  
  
"Night, Jack!"  
  
"Night, Red!"  
  
"Night, Race!"  
  
"Night, Red!"  
  
"Night, Bumlets!"  
  
"Night, Red!"  
  
"Night, Skittery!"  
  
"Night, Red!"  
  
"Night, Spot!"  
  
"Night, Red!"  
  
"Night, Mush!"  
  
"Night, Red!"  
  
"Night, Itey!"  
  
"Night, Red!"  
  
Well, I won't bore you anymore, but I'll have you know that I proceeded to bid each and every newsie a good night. I concluded with a loud, "NIGHT, KLOPPAH!!!!"  
  
His response: "GO TA BED!!!"  
  
"Red?"  
  
"Yeah, Blink?"  
  
"You gonna do this every night?"  
  
"Maybe."  
  
I got a groan for that. I take it back. I got groans for that. Many of them.  
  
~*!ShoutOut!*~ Saturday: YAY, I'm so glad you liked it! And I am no longer hypocritical cuz Spot IS in this chapter . . . just don't let your virtual counterpart know Spot's secret, and we'll be fine . . .  
  
Author's Note: Aaaaah, I am SOOOO sorry it took SOOOOO long to write this chapter!!!!!! I also want to note that this story is BY NO MEANS historically accurate, even though I think you've probably noticed by now . . . That's all for now, folks! 


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